


Depression naps

by manosoutas



Category: Underworld Capital Incident (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Depression, Fluff without Plot, Hugging, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Smooching, also me writing self indulgent stuff, it's mostly fluff so don't worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 22:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10728324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manosoutas/pseuds/manosoutas
Summary: It’s not that he is lazy. He is just tired. All the time.





	Depression naps

He didn’t ask for this. Really, he didn’t ask for it. Maybe it’s what he deserves, though.

His eyes feel heavy again, even after having woken up some minutes ago. His room is dark, as always, door and windows closed so no light can enter. The way he likes it. Who knows what time it is, maybe the morning has already ended; maybe it’s the middle of the night, even. It’s one of those days, Tagami realises. One of those tedious and long days.

He is sleepy most of the time. Gets tired easily. It earns him Tanizaki’s complaints about how he isn’t doing his best, about his bad shape, and many other things that he doesn’t really care about. He really, really wishes he could actually care, really. But it all sounds like utter bullshit. His comrades just don’t understand. It’s not that he is lazy. He is just tired. All the time.

What makes it different, he thinks, it’s that it’s not just his body what feels utterly exhausted. His mind slurs, incoherent thoughts trying to find each other, for something to finally make sense. He realises, that maybe he has been dreaming for hours, about things he wishes he could just forget.

Tagami’s rational side thinks, that maybe some things are best left forgotten forever. His not so rational side, even if it starts screeching whenever he remembers, thinks there are some things he wants to have close to his heart. It’s exhausting, really, to deal with manichaeisms and dichotomies. So, in the end, he doesn’t.

Sleeping is nice. Sleeping is easy. It feels warm. It feels safe. It washes away your thoughts, your feelings. Dreams can be hurtful, too, but they are, at least, way less real than memories. Less threatening. When he wakes up, they are gone. Memories remain, biting at his skin, his back itchy and cold. If he didn’t know better, he would think the sensation is some youkai’s fault. It isn’t.

He groans, trying to shut himself up, with no avail. He holds his futon, hides his head under the covers, and grits his teeth. He would like to say that his head hurts, but the sensation isn’t exactly pain. It’s numbness. Pain is way better than nothing, in times like these.

He wants to sleep. Really wants to sleep. Drown his sorrow in the warmth of his room. Make it stop. It’s almost funny, almost, because, he remembers, he is not human, he should not have to deal with this, with the feelings, with the powerlessness. Humans are pitiful, and annoying. Maybe he is, too.

He hears a knock. Two. Three. It feels as if someone was hammering the door with their fists. Of course, he knows who it is. He immediately knows who it is, and it feels scary. 

Not him. He can’t see him like this.

“Tagami!” Hirahara calls him, speaking in a singsong. It’s a miracle that he didn’t decide to just open the door or break it down, like he usually does. It’s weird, really weird, but he doesn’t feel like questioning it at the moment, so the thought vanishes in a second.

“Go away.” He groans, not wanting to deal with anyone. And yet, desperately needing some kind of emotional contact. Oh, how much he wants to sleep.

“I can’t do that.” Hirahara replies, in a softer way than he is used to. Maybe he is still dreaming. Or maybe he is finally losing his mind. Welp. “I’m worried, Tagami.”

Worried. As if. As if he could understand what’s happening, what shouldn’t be happening because he is not human, neither of them are, nobody around them is, and still…

“Do whatever you want.”

A moment of weakness. Great. Just great.

And like that, the door opens, letting the light in, and Hirahara enters the room like it’s his own. He was never too good at realising about being in touch with others’ boundaries, after all. That’s one of his charms, in a way. Being absolutely clueless about the most basic stuff.

“Why is it all dark? It feels weird!”

“You are weird.” he answers without thinking. It’s not an insult, at all, but with his deadpan voice and expression, it could be mistaken as one. That’s one of his own charms, he thinks.

“Yeah, probably.” Hirahara admits, cheerfully. He opens the windows, letting the air and light in. Tagami grabs his covers even tighter.

“Close the door, you idiot.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He doesn’t want to face him. Not now. Tagami is bad at keeping eye contact when he doesn’t feel all there. Hirahara is all about looking, and touching. Not very fond of personal space in general. He can get tedious, sometimes.

He wonders if he’s looking at him. At the lump under the covers, dark hair messy and a little dirty. The room probably reeks of sweat and humidity. Everything has metaphorical red flags about it.

“You haven’t been outside all day. Are you sick, Tagami?”

Sick. It’s a way to put it. The way he feels can’t be considered healthy. Tired but restless, angry, his muscles aching, his mind feeling like a goddamn storm.

“I guess” he admits, finally being able to take his head out of his futon, still trying not to look at Hirahara’s golden eyes. At his bright smile. He irradiates energy, and not even Tagami seems to be able to absorb it all with his black hole-like personality. He can’t drain him. Nobody can, in fact.

“You haven’t eaten, thought. And eating is important for your health!” he beams, like he doesn’t realise about what’s happening. Maybe he doesn’t. “And you wouldn’t guess what Kirika cooked for us!”

“I don’t care.”

The words sounds far more bitter and hoarse than he intended them to be. He almost feels guilty about it, and can’t help but look at Hirahara’s expression, looking for a pained reaction. 

He could have dealt with anger, pain, sadness… it’s not as if his bad temper had never made Hirahara upset. He doesn’t do it deliberately, and both of them know that. It’s not something he is proud about. But this time, Hirahara’s expression completely baffles him.

“Tagami, let me stay here with you.”

His smile is gone, but his expression if soft, warm. He looks sympathetic, sweet, and Tagami averts his eyes.

“Go away.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Hirahara…”

“I can’t do it, Tagami. You don’t have to be alone, and I want to stay with you.”

Sometimes, Tagami wonders if Rokkaku decided to pair them up for most missions deliberately. Knowing their boss, he probably did. He knows about their past life, even the things Tagami himself doesn’t remember. He prefers not to ask, to be completely honest. Hirahara, however…

Does Hirahara even know what happened when both of them were alive? Does he remember the desperation, the pain? Does he remember the feelings? He can never be sure. He thought Hirahara’s restless behaviour was a façade, at first, to conceal a much darker nature, and darker intentions. As it turned out, there was nothing inherently evil about his comrade. There is this brightness, this warmth, that he remembers well. That’s what makes him keep going, sometimes. He would rather die than admit it out loud.

“Whatever you say.” he sighs, and wonders, while closing his eyes, if Hirahara would be this gentle with him if he actually remembered. Nobody could be that nice. Nobody.

“Let me in! I wanna share your futon.”

“Are you fucking serious.”

It’s a rethorical question, of course. He knows the idiot is dead serious. And honestly, it would be too troublesome to just kick him out of his room. Or to even yell at him. Also, deep down, he does want him to stay. Goddamn Hirahara.

So, when Hirahara gets under the covers, he tries his best to make himself look smaller, and more threatening. He is completely ignored, as Hirahara smiles, and makes sure none of them is cold.

“I love resting with you.” he muses, still smiling. “You’re relaxing.”

He suddenly realises, that’s the truth. Hirahara is terrible at sleeping, but likes dozing off by his side when they go on missions together. He can make Hirahara rest a little, and Hirahara gives him the strength to keep going.

He doesn’t feel relaxed, at all, though.

Rokkaku says it gets better, with time. That one day, the memories will just be a faint pain in his chest. Tagami doubts this annoying mood can become manageable one day. Tanizaki would say that Rokkaku knows best, but Tagami has never been good at just trusting, even if he does trust his boss with his own life. It’s just not that easy.

“Tagami, can I hug you?”

The question seems to come out of nowhere, but he realises he has probably been absent-minded for many seconds. 

He has to face two opposite instincts. The first one screams at him to punch Hirahara’s face to make him go away, to leave him alone, utterly terrified. The second one, meanwhile…

“Yes.” He whispers, and he feels as if Hirahara’s newfound smile could warm up the entire room.

It does feel pleasant, actually. Arms bigger than his embracing his frame, close, closer than he has been to anyone… maybe ever. He can’t really remember that much. The feeling is familiar, but alien at the same time, so his confusion is steady. He wants to ask why, because it doesn’t make sense in any way. His brain is overheated and tired, and his body has already given up. He can faintly smell fresh air, and he quivers, unconsciously. The hug feels tighter, and Hirahara’s own temperature feels safe and cozy.

“You don’t have to face all of this on your own, you know?”

“What?”

“You know. You being this stubborn. You never ask for help, Tagami.”

He closes his eyes, refusing to face him.  
“Why do you think I need help?”

And Hirahara says it as if it were obvious.

“You’re always tired.”

Well, maybe it is obvious, after all. Hirahara is observant, too, sometimes. Most of the time, he isn’t, and he expected him to be oblivious forever. He has always considered himself pretty unlucky, though.

“So? What’s your point?”

“I asked Saeki about it. You’re not tired, Tagami. You’re depressed.”

Dammit Saeki and his knowledge and willingness to help. He can’t really get mad at him, knowing he does his best to assist all of his comrades. Still, his good nature has gotten him into a pretty embarrassing situation. He swears, out loud, and Hirahara stays still. Strange.

“I’m just tired…”

“You’re terrible at lying, Tagami. You can’t fool me.”

Shit. He just doesn’t know when to give up. None of them does, really. He just hoped the act would last forever. Everyone thinks he is lazy. It’s better to be thought of as lazy. Depressed is a whole different thing. What he doesn’t understand, at all, is how Hirahara can be so… himself, even after what happened.

“Do you remember, Hirahara?”

“Remember what?”

Nevermind. Rokkaku had told him that much. Some of the escorts did remember their past lives. Some others did not. After some time, most of them started to forget, anyways. There is no use for painful memories.

“Tagami, I understand, okay?” Hirahara says, tightening the embrace. He is shaking a little, Tagami realises. He hugs him back, slowly, tentatively. Maybe he does remember, after all. He looks at him, almost shyly, and Hirahara smiles at him. “We are together, remember. Together, forever.”

Tagami half smiles back. It feels weird, to smile in peace. To feel this intimate and vulnerable. A part of him reminds him, that if it’s Hirahara, then it’s fine. It’s okay.

“Tagami… Can I kiss you?”

And his brain freezes. He gets paralyzed, his fingers firmly grasping Hirahara’s uniform. It’s getting ruined, but none of them are too good at keeping it decent enough.

“Yes.” He rasps, concisely. His fear and pride can go eat shit as far as he is concerned. Hirahara’s golden eyes seem to beam, like when he is about to land a lethal blow on someone, but in a gentle way. He feels his hands on his cheeks, and stays still. He is good at staying still. Hirahara is not, as he seems to be vibrating from excitement, so much Tagami fears he is going to burst out and kill them all. It sounds like a good idea.

The kiss feels sudden, and a little rough, just because Hirahara is terrible at controlling himself when he is excited. His lips are warm and a little chapped, like he expected them to be. Not that Tagami has spent lots of time thinking about them. Of course not. That would be silly.

The room is dark enough to make him feel comfortable, and the futon is soft around them. Tagami tries to get a little closer, and Hirahara closes his eyes. He does the same, his hands caressing the orange hair with cautious movements. It’s gentle, unlike anything he has experienced.

They stay there, intertwined, sharing soft kisses betwen nervous glances. And suddenly, Hirahara shakes a little, a loud laugh erupting from his mouth. Tagami asks if he did something funny, slightly annoyed.

“Nah, I’m just happy.”

“Happy? Why?”

“Because I got to hug you, and kiss you, of course! I like you.”

Tagami rolls his eyes. Hard. Overthinking is a waste of time when it’s about Hirahara. He is a simple man, with simple needs, and simple satisfactions.

“You’re an idiot, you know.”

Tagami likes him, too.

“Tagami, you’re smiling.”

“Shut up.”

Hirahara laughs again, and hugs him tenderly. Tagami doesn’t feel like complaining. He feels at ease. Still tired, though. He closes his eyes, breathing deeply. Maybe he should take another nap. A minute later, he hears Hirahara snoring softly, and he decides to give up and sleep, too.

Depression naps feel even better when they are shared, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, trying to write in English again, and not dying. Yay.
> 
> First time writing about this fandom... so please, have that in mind.


End file.
